Follow You
by Man-lovingFeminist
Summary: Cristina and Owen are happy and past their troubles. But then, where's the drama in that? Appearances by other GA characters in Chs 2-6.
1. Fuck You

**Mature themes, sex(hope I didn't make a fool of myself), language. If you enjoy, let me know if you would like me to continue.**

"mmmm … Owen," Cristina rolled over, waking from her dream, which had been a continuation of their incredibly hot night last night. She loved that no matter how hot her dreams were, they never approached the excitement of actually being with him, the feel of his hands on her. Those hands that made her feel as no one else in her previous, as she thought excellent, love life had before.

His side of the bed was cold. Cristina's momentary disappointment was quickly replaced by the thought that most likely, Owen would return with coffee and donuts and fattening eggy, sausagey things. She might frequently sigh about some of the military habits he was unable to kick, but she would never complain about his ability to rise early for a quick run and return with breakfast for them both. Well, while she waited she might as well replay some of last night . . .

Owen climbed the stairs, his breath catching as it always did when he caught sight of his wife. Oh, and she was apparently awake. His pulse started to race as he saw her hands travel beneath the tangled sheet.

"Let me finish that," he said, quickly setting down breakfast before moving over her and pulling her arms above her head.

Cristina's surprised eyes looked up at him. He had that same look when he had first pulled out her icicle – the first time she had thought about . . .

She tried to pull him close but Owen resisted. I'm sweaty from running – just wait . . . He held himself above her as his mouth found her breast, his stubble sending little electric shocks through her as he moved down her body.

"Oh," Cristina managed. Owen's hands brushed lightly over her followed by his tongue, gently licking and kissing, teasing before entering - his hands moving behind her as he gained greater access. Cristina's hands clutched Owen's hair as he drove his tongue further into her. She gasped as he brought one hand to her front, using his thumb to bring her to a climax. "God. Owen." She brought his mouth up for a kiss, tasting herself. "Shower. Now."

Cristina dragged Owen to the shower, almost causing them to stumble before she flipped on the hot water. Cristina pulled off Owen's t-shirt and shorts, already soaking. "Cris, I brought breakfast …" "Shut up, I'm too hungry for breakfast," she whispered heatedly into his ear. "It's my turn."

Cristina moved her hands down Owen's beautiful body. She loved his body – so rough and masculine. She couldn't remember a time when pale skin didn't make her break into a sweat – how had that happened? She kissed his muscular chest, his taut stomach. She reached down and took him in her hands. He was so hard. And so big. She stroked him and licked her lips as she knelt down. She looked up into Owen's eyes, glazed over with desire and locked her gaze to his as she brought him to her mouth. Owen braced himself against the tile as his other hand automatically found her thick curls. Cristina took the tip of his penis in her mouth, teasing him with her tongue. "Cris . . ." Owen 's voice broke. She took him all the way in, hungrily sucking and stroking the length of his cock as she felt Owen's willpower beginning to give. In the next moment Owen used his strength to bring her to her feet and in one movement drove into her, the last vestige of his control gone. Cristina wrapped herself around him, suddenly weak as he pounded into her, leaving them gasping each other's names. It was a good thing the firehouse had good soundproofing . . .

"I think the coffee's cold," Owen frowned.

"That's why God invented microwaves, Babe."

Owen smiled at his wife. Then he turned serious, "Are you sure you're okay with my choosing April for Chief Resident?"

Cristina looked back at him. "We talked about this. I meant it when I said I think you're right - I actually thought you were going to choose Meredith before she found out her adoption is coming through and dropped out of the race. Or Alex before he pulled that crazy stunt."

"You are the best surgeon at this hospital and maybe the best cardio resident in the country."

"And don't you forget it. Wait. Maybe?"

"Definitely."

"Can't say it didn't hurt my pride just a little, but I had time to think it over and you made a good point. I want to do surgery and have major medical breakthroughs, not have mounds of paperwork and have to deal with people's petty complaints. Same thing with you and turning down being chief."

"You know, if I thought that's what you really wanted, I would have picked you."

"Even though I would have been crappy at the administrative stuff? Be careful Dr. Hunt, people might start to think you've lost your ability to be 'professional.'"

"I think I lost that a while ago when it comes to you. Luckily, you blind them with your brilliance so no one notices my impartiality is slipping."

"Ha! Well, at least that means that as penance for her perky efficiency April has to be at the hospital organizing the surgical schedule for the week this morning and I can be here having great sex and donuts before surgery." Cristina chomped on a big apple fritter with satisfaction.

Owen relaxed a little. Deep down he knew he had done the right thing for Cristina's career, but she had every right not to see it that way.

"Besides, all I can think of now is the new experimental artificial heart-lung transplant coming up. Just waiting for the final word from the FDA for the go ahead and then on to cardio immortality." Cristina started on the bacon, egg, cheese biscuit. Owen watched her down the next 1000 calories "really, where does it all _go_?"

"To my massive brain, Hon, to my massive brain."

Later that evening, Cristina, tired but satisfied after surgery climbed the stairs, looking forward to curling up with Owen. Maybe he would play his guitar for her. She loved it when he played his guitar. Made him even sexier, if that were possible.

She found him on the couch but as he looked up she could tell something was wrong. He looked sad and worried. She didn't know why she thought of their first "date" when she saw his expression, but it made her shiver.

"Owen. Tell me."

Owen wordlessly handed her the half-crumpled letter. She didn't want to read the rest after she saw the U.S. Army header but she continued.

It took Cristina a minute to speak. "Owen they can't do this." [fn1]

"I'm afraid they can."

"But it doesn't make any sense. You did three tours . . ."

"I didn't finish my last one."

"Because you were almost blown into a million pieces. Because all of your friends were killed. Because it almost ruined your life." Cristina was angry now. "You were discharged . . ."

"I guess they figured I'm better now, running a Level 1 trauma department . . ."

"What are they fucking thinking? We can fight this. I'll march up the steps of the goddamn Supreme Court . . ."

"Cristina," Owen's voice was low.

"You want to go?" Cristina was incredulous. And pissed.

"No, I don't want to go. The last thing in the world I want to do is leave you. The thought of it is killing me. But saying no really isn't an option. And they need me."

Cristina snorted with disgust. "They almost got every last bit of you. What you are now is what we built together – they don't get what we built."

" I don't mean the Army, I mean the guys. The guys like Arizona's brother who didn't make it because there weren't enough people who know what I know."

"But it's Afghanistan this time. What if your Iraq experience isn't applicable?" Cristina could tell she wasn't going to win this one.

"It's not a full tour. Just 3 months. Just until I can train enough people , maybe just enough so a few more people get to come home." Owen looked at Cristina. "I'll be careful. I won't be on the forward surgical teams," he offered. "I have too much to lose now."

"Goddamn motherfuckin' shit."

"Yeah." Owen pulled Cristina close, stroking her hair. He could feel the fight start to go out of her, which worried him more.

Cristina felt so safe in his arms. She was tough but had come to rely on the absolute confidence and stability she felt with him. What was she going to do for the next 3 months? Dammit, they were happy: they had gotten through the worst of his PTSD, they had gotten through her terrible breakdown, they had even gotten through that whole silly PTSD induced mess with Teddy. Cristina always knew Owen loved her completely – why had she ever let herself doubt him? Why had she wasted even a second anywhere else but right here?

They stood there wordlessly for awhile. "Owen?"

"Yes?"

"I had been looking forward to a little guitar tonight."

Owen dared a small chuckle. "Then you're in luck. I've learned the Cee-Lo song. You are free to sing the original lyrics in our own home."

"I think I have some special hand gestures to go with my dancing for that one," Cristina replied.

Shit. The next 3 months had better go by quickly.

FN1: **Please forgive the great liberties I have taken with the facts with respect to the Army's policy. The stop-loss policy was discontinued in 2009. I don't know whether it ever applied to medical units. I highly doubt it ever applied to discharged PTSD sufferers.**


	2. Lucky

"I'll Skype. We haven't tried Skype sex." Cristina was trying to keep the mood light. Otherwise she was going to do something very un-Cristina like and collapse in weepy heap. Definitely a bad idea.

"You always did have brilliant ideas." Owen tried a smile. "You will need to let me know immediately if you win the Nobel or something while I'm away. Or strangle April."

"You don't have to worry about the Nobel – the next announcement isn't for another 11 months. April .. . well I'll keep you posted."

"You know my mom's there – if you need anything. You know she won't intrude on you but she'd love to cook you a meal or two. So ask her if you feel like it."

"Thanks. I will."

A boyish-looking man in uniform approached them cautiously. "Major Hunt, 10 minutes to takeoff, Sir."

Cristina buried her face in Owen's neck.

Owen took her hand. "Take care now."

For a minute Cristina was back on that hospital table, watching an amazing guy in uniform walk away from her without looking back.

Damn. She should have asked Meredith to pick her up from the airport. For some reason she couldn't seem to see clearly. No way she could drive home like this.

"Cristina," her best friend's voice spoke softly from behind her.

Cristina turned around. "Mer," her voice broke. "Thank you."

"Owen thought you might like some company on the way home," Meredith offered. "'Course I had already thought of that."

"Ha." Cristina wiped away the water running down her cheeks. "Oh wait, my car."

"If you'll allow me, I'm happy to drive the other car back," said the approaching man, who had much too much thick dark wavy hair for a man in his mid forties.

"Well, I guess your Post-It husband comes in handy once in a while," Cristina gave a half smile to her friend.

"So did McBadass get off alright?" Derek's teasing tone belied his concerned look.

"Yeah, McDreamy. Owen wanted me to thank you for the single malt by the way."

"I told him we'll share the rest of the case when he gets back."

Cristina squeezed Derek's hand. She would not lose it here in front of random airport people.

"Take me home, Mer."

Cristina never realized how quiet the firehouse was without him. Meredith had offered to stay the night, but strangely, Cristina preferred to spend it alone, in their bed. She put on Owen's favorite old T-shirt he had left for her and crept into bed, burying her face in his pillow that smelled like him. Three months. That was no time at all – she could keep busy with surgeries and the new transplant trial. She just had to focus. She was good at that.

All she needed was a good video to relax her and help her sleep. She pulled out one of her old favorites: "Video Assisted Thorascopy". She opened the DVD case to find a folded piece of paper.

_Cristina, _

_I figured you'd look here before you'd look in the fridge. I know you don't like sentimentality so I'll keep it short. We've never been apart this long and I don't know how often we'll be able to speak to each other over the coming months, so you'll have to let me say it because I can never say it enough: I love you. You are the love of my life. You are the first thing I think about every morning and my last thought before I sleep. You make me completely happy in a way I never thought possible. I'm amazed every day by your intelligence and beauty, your determination, wit and capacity for real compassion. I can face anything the future has in store because of you._

_Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it, eager to hear about all your surgical breakthroughs and longing to feel your skin against mine. _

_Owen_

Cristina crawled back into bed, Owen's note against her chest. They had been brought together by luck. They were lucky people. She hadn't survived a gunman's rampage just to have it all go to hell now. Things would be okay.

"Major Hunt, we'll be making a quick stop in Germany to refuel before heading on to Kabul. Can I get you anything?"

"Thanks, Corporal, I'm fine." Owen looked across the aisle at the young privates sleeping, unprepared for the experiences they would have in the next few months. He partly envied their innocence and was partly relieved to know that terrible things could happen and he could survive.

He reached for his guitar case where he had stored some new sheet music to learn when he had the chance. Opening the case, he found a folded piece of paper.

_Owen,_

_I figured you'd look here first. You know I don't like sentimentality so I'll keep it short. We've never been apart this long and I don't know how often we'll be able to speak to each other over the coming months, so you'll have to let me say it because I can never say it enough: I love you. You are the love of my life. You are the first thing I think about every morning and my last thought before I sleep. You make me completely happy in a way I never thought possible. I'm amazed every day by your intelligence and gorgeous masculinity, your kindness and strength and loyalty. I can face anything the future has in store because of you._

_Don't worry. You'll be back before you know it, and I'll be eager to hear about all your adventures and successes._

_Longing to feel your skin against mine, _

_Cristina_

Owen pressed his lips to the paper. He could smell her light perfume. They had been brought together by luck. They were lucky people. He hadn't been the only survivor of the RPG ambush just to have it all go to hell now. Things would be okay.


	3. Half a World Away

"Here's the plan," Meredith huddled with Alex, Cristina and Lexie, "I need some quality time with Derek before our baby arrives while we have a break in the Alzheimer's trial, and April has me freaking scheduled to be on call all freaking weekend. Alex, she won't switch me with you because as she says that will screw up her whole schedule, which she's been working on for the past month. "

Meredith turned to Cristina, "She seems to be scared of you . . .

"Yeah, I have a suspicion Owen put the fear of God into her about crossing me," Cristina smirked.

" . . . . and since you have that important heart-lung trial work going on this weekend I can't have you switch with me. Seriously, I have reservations for the Maui Four Seasons – what kind of heartless bitch doesn't understand the importance of one last alone-time weekend with McDreamy at the Four Seasons?"

"A Nazette, that's who," snarked Alex.

"Nice – you are turning in to a pretty terrific nicknamer." The voice of "The Nazi" startled all three of them. "Hey, not my problem anymore – go to it," said Bailey spying Eli turning the corner, looking way too sure of himself and way too sexy.

Meredith resumed, "Cristina, you go do your scary thing and keep her occupied. Alex, you guard the door and use your All-American moves if you have to while Lexie hacks into her laptop and "fixes" the schedule. Plan?" Four adult professionals at one of the country's best hospitals spit in their hands and shook on it.

One hour later, a bewildered April studied the month's schedule – she was _sure _she had done a better job than that – this didn't look right at all. Had she emailed out the wrong document? Had she forgotten to save? Damn it, there went her weekend.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

"Get out," growled Owen in his best softly menacing tone. The young private occupying the room quickly ended his call – already 10 minutes over his allotted time - giving Major Hunt an apologetic and slightly nervous salute as he rushed out. Owen locked the door.

Cristina wasn't scheduled to Skype in quite yet, but Owen liked to take a couple of minutes to compose himself. It had been a hard, but fulfilling, day. The roadside bomb had resulted in major injuries to several of the men the forward surgical team had brought in, but they had done a good job keeping them alive and his hospital team had managed to get most of the soldiers to stable condition. Only one amputation. His team was coming along – thinking on their feet and improvising solutions you don't get taught in stateside hospital- well maybe except for LA General which was kind of like a warzone. Most of all, he was just happy that he had not experienced any recurrences of his PTSD symptoms. It was hard to see good men suffer, but Owen had learned ways of coping with difficult memories that popped into his head. He was doing okay. And at least it wasn't a furnace in Summer here in Kabul like it was in Baghdad – small favors. He knew Cristina would worry if she found out he had been forced to venture out of the Green Zone on a couple of occasions when a lack of personnel had required him to bring a soldier in himself – he would have to keep that to himself for now.

The screen before him flickered. His breath caught. There she was, more beautiful even than the image he kept with him all day.

"Hot wife calling Major Hunt," she greeted him.

"He's here and you are," he smiled.

Cristina turned serious. "How are you, really?"

"I'm okay, Cris. There have been a few challenging days but nothing I couldn't handle and no PTSD flare-ups. And I feel like I'm doing some good here."

"Good. That's good." She breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted her husband to come back to her the same person that left her. "Sorry to tell you I think I've killed all our plants."

He laughed. "Are you eating? You look thin."

"Don't worry. You're mom stocked our freezer with homemade "TV dinners" – all I have to do is take a box out, press 3 minutes on the microwave and voila – one whole complete meal like you would make me. She's kind of awesome. In fact, if anything, I think I'm getting fat. . . . . . . . . Do you think I'm getting fat?" Cristina's voice took a seductive turn as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, sliding the silken material away from her shoulders, revealing his favorite black lace bra.

Owen's face felt warm. "I don't know, you'll have to stand up so I can see you better."

Cristina complied, slowly rising to reveal her taut stomach. "I mean, I think I'm about the same here," she brushed her hands lightly over the lace, "but right about here, I feel I may have gained a couple." Cristina moved her hands down her abdomen, fingers sliding slightly beneath the waistband of her jeans.

Owen's breath quickened. "Maybe you should undo the button of your jeans so I can give a more accurate opinion."

Cristina unbuttoned her jeans, using one hand to slide the zipper down and the other to inch her jeans down until they fell to the floor of their own accord, revealing matching black lace panties. "Or maybe it's all gone to my thighs." She caressed her thighs wickedly. "Or my ass." She spun around, naughtily swaying her hips.

Owen cleared his throat. "No. No, I think you've kept your shape beautifully," he managed in a hoarse voice, suddenly feeling constricted.

"You look hot in that T-shirt, Major Hunt. Why don't you take it off?"

God, Cristina loved his shoulders, and his well-defined biceps, the way the muscles in his back rippled as he lifted his shirt over his head. He always reminded her of a Greek god – Poseidon maybe, ruler of the seas. Cristina was desperate to feel him against her.

Cristina slid her hands over her bra. "Let me see you," Owen asked. Cristina undid the clasp and let the lace fall. "Imagine your hands are mine," Owen whispered "Run your thumb over your nipples. Can you feel me?" Cristina nodded. " My tongue is there now, teasing. I'm taking your breast in my mouth, sucking the tips." Cristina's toes curled.

Now slide one hand down and run a finger over your panties. Now take your fingers and . . .

Owen, I'm so wet.

I know. I can feel you. My fingers are so deep in you now.

Owen, please fuck me.

I'm entering you now. I love how you take all of me in your tight pussy.

You feel so good. I love feeling your large cock inside of me.

I'm driving into you.

Harder . . . . Owen, I'm coming

God, Cristina. I love you.

That night, Cristina slept better than she had in weeks. So did Owen.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

"So Mr. Huff, how is that pig valve working?" Cristina asked, examining her work with a satisfied smile.

"Wonderful. I haven't felt this good in years. You're an amazing surgeon, Dr. Yang." Cristina took the compliment, well deserved if she did say so herself. "' Course I have this strange urge to root for truffles every time I go for a walk in the woods," he deadpanned.

"Ha, ha. You must be better – you have to be well to tell a joke that bad. Just make sure you take care of yourself. You kind of have to follow my rules now that I've saved your life."

Cristina left her intern to finalize Mr. Huff's paperwork. Yet another successful surgery. She was on a roll.

Pigs – what wonderful animals. So useful and yet so delicious. And intelligent. She occasionally thought about Babe wistfully. She hoped he was in pig heaven somewhere, happily rooting around in the muck – that is if she believed in that sort of thing. She tried to reconcile her feelings by increasing her vigilance to ensure that the hospital parts as well as her morning bacon came from sources where humane treatment of animals was a top priority.

Just a quick detour before checking on the the FDA approval status of the next step in the new heart-lung transplant trial.

"Godmother coming through," Cristina announced walking through a strange door into a strange land filled with pastels and balloons and a toxic amount of optimism and sweetness. Arizona was re-diapering Baby Sophia, who had just finished having her first pediatric exam since coming home from her three months in the hospital incubator. Arizona gave Cristina a half smile, "Sophia's doing really well. Lung function is good. Healthy appetite." She handed Sophia over to Cristina with caution. She still retained a bit of skepticism when it came to Cristina's qualifications to be a godmother – weren't godmothers supposed to _like_ children? But Arizona was coming around – Callie had survived because of Cristina and Owen, and Cristina had actually proven to be very gentle and compassionate when it came to Sophia. "Callie just texted me she's scrubbing out now so she should be back in her office in a few minutes if you want to walk her over."

Cristina proceeded down the hall towards Callie's office. She found herself half-singing a little tune " . . . the leg bone connected to the – thigh bone," Sophia pursed her lips as if she were about to cry. "Oh that's right, I mean "connected to the – _knee_ bone – the knee bone connected to the – thigh bone," Sophia's pout immediately turned into a smile. Cristina wondered if maybe she had imparted some of her genius genes to her goddaughter.

A very harried-looking April almost ran into her – furiously trying to text responses to panicked interns, her cell phone vibrating every few seconds with some new "emergency" that was probably nothing of the sort, the next week's schedule already having to be rearranged after one of the new residents had a near breakdown upon discovering his fiancee's infidelity. Poor April, Cristina almost felt sorry for her – almost but not quite. She had to admit she had a certain satisfaction that she was able to concentrate on surgery and ground-breaking trials while the dark circles under April's eyes signaled late nights dealing with hours of administrative paperwork. _How do you like being Chief Resident now? _Cristina took pity on the poor girl and didn't say it out loud.

"Thank God I am not obligated to listen to people's petty, petty problems. Or remember interns' names. People are idiots. Except for you Sophia. You clearly have superior intelligence. I would want my baby to be just like you," Cristina whispered to Sophia without realizing what she had just said.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

"Major Hunt, Sir," a breathless soldier approached Owen. " We just got word that the forward team hit an IED on their way back from the field about 20 miles out. No word on any casualties but I think we're gonna need you."

"Of course, Private Posey, I'm on my way. Go round up supplies and I'll get whatever doctors can be spared." Damn. News like this always hit Owen hard, but he did what he did best: focused on what was right in front of him. Determined to save his guys, Owen climbed in the Humvee with their Afghan driver, an Afghan soldier whose expertise they had come to rely on, and a small medical team . . . .

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Cristina jumped up from her computer letting out a little whoop. FDA approval for the next step in their trial. She would out Mayo the Mayo Clinic. They thought they had a groundbreaking heart-lung transplant strategy? She would show them. The Genius Grant was as good as hers.

"Dr. Yang, there's someone at the front desk here to see you," the nurse called up.

"Okay, I'm on my way down anyway." Cristina was meeting Alex, Callie, Lexie and Mark at Joe's. The mood she was in, she might just whip up a batch of her Early Onset special.

As she turned the corner nearing the lobby, the sight of a strange man in an Army officer's uniform caused her heart to suddenly sink to the pit of her stomach.


	4. Here Comes the Rain Again

Cristina made herself walk towards the uniformed man, willing herself to remain calm. Immediately she breathed a sigh of relief as he turned around and with a big smile asked, "Do I have the honor of finally meeting the one and only Cristina Yang? The woman who made an honest man of my old drinking buddy?"

It took Cristina a moment before recognizing the man whom she'd only seen in pictures in a half drunken state. "Steve Mason!"

"I'm sorry I couldn't make the wedding. But then, maybe it's better – I probably would have tried to steal you away from Hunt."

"Owen warned me about you."

"Yeah, he never could stand the competition." Major Mason's tone turned more serious. "I heard Owen got called back - the bastards. How are you holding up?"

"I'm doing okay. We're able to communicate on an almost weekly basis. Plus, you know, he says he's pretty safe there in the Green Zone hospital," Cristina answered optimistically.

Steve's eyes narrowed worriedly, but he answered matching her tone. "Great! Can I buy you a drink?"

"I was on my way to the bar across the street to meet some friends. I would love you to join us."

Steve offered Cristina his arm and, being in a good mood, she took it as they headed over to Joe's.

"Looks like Yang's hooked up with a new guy," Alex slurred eyeing the pair who had just entered the bar.

"I heard that, Evil Spawn." Cristina restrained herself from sticking out her tongue. "Everyone, may I introduce Owen's friend from the Army, Major Steve Mason. This is Alex Karev, Callie Torres, Lexie Grey and Mark Sloan." The recently reunited Lexie and Mark tore their gazes away from each other long enough to greet the newcomer.

"Callie Torres? The surgeon who operated on Charlie a couple of years ago?"

"That's right," Callie answered cautiously.

"I just want to thank you. It couldn't have been easy to cut off his leg like that, but you did the right thing. It killed me seeing the guy's spirit being crushed by constant pain. You know, he went back for another tour and was instrumental in saving his whole platoon during a firefight. Lately he's been assisting some of the rebuilding efforts. Last time I talked to him he seemed really happy and just got himself engaged."

"Thanks for telling me. He sent me a letter some time ago assuring me he made the right choice, but it's nice to hear it from someone else."

Steve leaned over towards Callie, turning on the charm, "So I'd love to buy you dinner sometime as a thank you."

"I don't think her wife and baby waiting at home would appreciate that too much," blurted out Alex just as Mark interjected, "Hey, that's the mother of my child."

Steve opened his mouth to ask a question and then shut it. Owen had once mentioned to him that relationships at Seattle Grace were "complicated." Best to change the subject. "So how about I buy a round in honor of the world famous Icicle Girl?"

Cristina opened her eyes wide in surprise, "What? How did you hear about that? Wait – world famous?"

"Oops – Owen didn't tell you, huh? Hope I'm not getting him into trouble, but I think it's sweet. When he got back to Iraq after that last leave, he told a couple of friends about this incredible, smart, beautiful woman he had met: she had stapled his leg after an accident and then later that night slipped on the ice and was impaled by a freakishly large icicle, which he ended up removing. We thought he was making it up, but well, you know, it was so strange for Owen to talk about anything personal to anyone, much less about a woman he had feelings for - I mean, prior to that, he had barely ever even mentioned Beth at all, and certainly not with that level of excitement—that the story got emailed around the world to our circle of friends – Iraq, Afghanistan, Germany, Harvard. So yeah, world famous."

"Awww, how romantic," Lexie beamed.

Cristina felt like she should be angry, but at the moment she just felt like laughing. "So Steve, can I interest you in some Early Onset Alzheimers?"

After a couple of hours, having arranged to meet Steve for dinner in two days, she caught a cab home. Steve tried to insist on accompanying her, but he had already had too many to be of any real assistance. Plus, she had seen him eye an attractive woman at the bar.

"So how are your wingman skills?" she heard him ask Alex as she exited Joes.

The next morning, Cristina managed to down a hangover remedy, and by mid-day was once more engrossed in her work. She had just heard of a new experimental technique that she might be able to modify for use in her trial. Visions of accepting the Harper Avery danced before her eyes. Work was a good thing. Work was a magical cure for everything bad – for hangovers, for loneliness, for heartbreak and anxiety. The day was almost over before she knew it.

Cristina finished the last of her charts, grabbed her bag and headed towards the hospital's front door.

"Cristina." Steve walked toward her, this time accompanied by a slightly older man, similarly uniformed.

"Steve, I thought we arranged to have dinner tomorrow night. Couldn't stay away, huh?" Cristina smiled.

"Mrs. Hunt?" queried the other man.

"Yes."

"Cristina, is there somewhere private we can talk?" Steve looked serious.

Cristina's knees suddenly felt weak. "Um. Yeah. Theres . . ." She started walking toward the nearest on-call room, finding it hard to breathe. Steve took her arm and helped her into the chair as the other officer shut the door.

"Mrs. Hunt, I regret to inform you that . . ."

"No."

"Wait, Cristina." Steve took her hand.

The other officer continued, "that as of 08:00 hrs this morning, Major Hunt was reported as missing."

Cristina caught her breath, the crushing weight on her chest and burning tears that had started with Colonel Wilson's first words turned themselves into a furious anger.

"Missing? What in the hell do you mean missing? How does the goddam Army lose someone working in a hospital in the middle of Kabul? How is it even possible to go fucking missing these days?"

Colonel Wilson continued as gently as he could, "It's been reported that Major Hunt responded to an emergency situation after an IED injured a forward surgical team about 20 miles from the hospital. The men who made it on the helicopter report that a few soldiers and surgical personnel were left behind, including your husband. Another rescue team found evidence of some sort of ambush, leaving several men dead. About four men, including Major Hunt, remain unaccounted for."

"I know this seems like a crazy thing to say," began Steve, "but I think there's every reason to be hopeful. Look, if they had wanted him dead, they would have killed him there."

"Shut up. Shut the fuck up. He wasn't supposed to put himself in danger. He promised me he would come back."

Steve put an arm around her. "Can I take you home?"

"Wait. Owen's mom. Has she been told?"

"Yes, another officer went to tell his mother when we came to tell you."

Meredith was still in Maui. There was only one person she needed to be with right now anyway.

Cristina turned to Steve. "You know where Owen's mom lives, right?"

"Sure. You want to go there now?"

Cristina nodded and let Steve guide her out.

Cristina recalled the first time she and Owen had driven up to his old house. How, in contrast to her own more luxurious childhood residence, his house felt like a real home. Where you could tell a family had been happy, where apple pies had been baked and barbeques had been held in the backyard. She'd teased him on occasion about his Norman Rockwell upbringing.

She knocked on the door and the same brilliant blue eyes met hers. "Cristina," Mrs. Hunt enveloped her in her arms and brought her inside.

Cristina lay in bed in the guestroom, the only evidence it had once been Owen's old room a high school baseball trophy on the lower shelf of a bookcase. Owen had to be alive. If he had been killed, surely she would have known it. She would have gotten some cosmic sign. If Owen had been killed thunderclouds would have gathered and lightening would have struck and winds would have blown down the buildings of Seattle.

This time, she didn't think work was going to cure this pain she was feeling. She had to think of something else.


	5. Ain't No Mountain High

Cristina couldn't focus on the new technique. She spent most of the last couple of days trying not to think of the worst things she could imagine. Her nights weren't much better. The last two nights of fitful sleep and been punctuated by strange dreams: icicles had rained down in the desert, her dead houseplants sprouted bombs, she and Owen stood before the minister in burkas. Still, she hadn't received any more information. She wasn't sure if information was being withheld or if the Army just didn't have it.

_Immediately after learning about Owen upon their return to Seattle, Meredith and Derek rushed over to the firehouse and did what they could to keep her spirits up. "You know, I just have a feeling that Owen's okay. He knows I will kick his ass if he's not," Meredith stated with a fierce lack of logic. _

"_I called Major Mason," Derek said. "He seems pretty positive that Owen's alive. We don't know for sure, but if he was captured by the Taliban, they probably did so because he's useful to them. They have injured people, too, and don't exactly bring along high level trauma surgeons with them." _

"_This is crazy," Cristina replied fighting back threatening tears. "I can't believe I'm actually hoping my husband is doing surgery in some cave for the Taliban."_

Cristina tried again to clear her head. All the places in the hospital either reminded her of Owen or were filled with people who were clearly trying not to look at her with pity or some type of special reverence. It was creepy. Even Alex had been nice and sweet. She was going to freaking lose her mind waiting to hear something. Cristina had felt helpless two times in her life before this: when her father died and during the shooting. She hated that feeling. She had to do something. She put down the scope in frustration and went for a walk down the hall. A flyer on a nearby billboard caught her eye and a germ of an idea planted itself in Cristina Yang-Hunt's fertile brain.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Cristina took two of Mrs. Hunt's heated "TV dinners" out of the microwave and plopped one in front of her guest. "So Steve, here's what I need you to do . . ."

All through dinner, Steve did his best to dissuade Cristina from her plan. Unfortunately, she was even more stubborn than her husband. He was fighting a losing battle.

"You are not going to change my mind, so all I need to know is if you are going to help me or I am going to have to find someone else." Cristina gave him a determined stare that indicated debate time was over.

"Okay, okay," Steve relented. " I have some pull with someone at Doctors Without Borders – I'm sure they'd love to have a skilled cardio resident help them out for a couple of weeks. But I still don't know what good you think it's going to do. Besides, it's not completely safe for them over there, either. They've only recently started their Afghanistan program back up. You can't go over there and make waves – they have enough challenges."

"I understand. I just can't sit here and wait. I feel like if I'm closer to where Owen is I won't feel so helpless. I don't know, maybe someone will have heard something. Not knowing anything at all is killing me. And I'd always planned on doing some work with them at some point in my career. I'll just be doing it a little sooner, that's all."

"I really hope you know what you're getting yourself into. Owen may never forgive me for helping you do this."

"Don't worry," Cristina kissed Steve on the cheek. "I'll protect you from the big bad Dr. Hunt."

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Two days later Cristina met with the Chief. "You're gonna do _what?_" he practically yelled.

"It's all arranged. I fly out on Monday. And look, it's a great, worthwhile program and the hospital might even get some good publicity."

"I don't care about the damn publicity. It's true I can't stop you from taking leave. Owen's situation qualifies as grounds for emergency family leave under hospital policy. Also true that at another time, in another country, a stint with Doctors Without Borders would be a great learning experience for you. But Afghanistan? Are you out of your mind?"

"One more thing, Chief. I'd really appreciate it if you could keep this confidential until I'm gone. I just think people knowing ahead of time would be too disruptive," Cristina firmly requested.

The Chief reluctantly nodded his assent. One of these days, he was going to start managing his residents again rather than the other way around.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Monday morning Cristina had her bag packed. She felt a little nervous, but she also was filled with a sense of purpose. Just a quick stop by the hospital before heading on to the airport.

Cristina found Derek in his office, "Can I have a moment?"

"Of course."

"I'm going to tell you something but I need you to not tell Meredith until about 12:35," Cristina demanded.

"Why's that?" asked Derek growing suspicious.

"Just consider it one of those life saving favors you owe me. 12:35 is the time my plane takes off for DC, after which I'll be getting on a Doctors Without Borders charter bound for Kabul."

It took a lot to shock Derek these days, but that about did it. He stood there speechless.

"Meredith is going to freak when she finds out so you need to be prepared. And I can't tell her myself because she'd probably do something crazy like lie down on the tarmac to prevent the plane from taking off. And you should be getting your baby in a week or two so she doesn't need to have the extra stress of trying to convince me not to go." Cristina put her best arguments forth.

"Crazy, right. Because going to a war torn country where your husband has gone missing is a sane thing to do."

"Derek, I can't sit here and wait any more than Meredith could sit in the safety of the next room while your life hung in the balance. It may not be the wisest decision but right now I feel it's the only hope I have," Cristina tried to explain.

"Okay, I understand. I mean I don't understand but I'll try to soften the blow for Meredith. Take care of yourself, Cristina." Derek watched the other half of the Twisted Sisters walk out the door. He wondered if he should drive to the airport and lay down on the tarmac.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Steve bought a ticket so he could sit with Cristina in the boarding area. "Well you're in luck. You remember I told you about Hakim, the Iraqi doctor? He knew Owen in Iraq and credits him with saving his life. He's living over here now but did some work with the Doctors Without Borders Afghanistan program last year. When I told him your situation, I didn't even have to ask, he insisted that he accompany you and help you in any way he could. He'll meet you at the airport in DC."

Cristina nodded and handed Steve an envelope. "Please give this letter to Owen's mom. I did my best to explain why I'm doing what I'm doing but take care of her while I'm gone."

"Of course." Steve stood wondering if he had done the right thing. His friend had married a remarkable woman; he didn't want to be responsible for putting her in danger. "Contact me as soon as you're able."

Cristina nodded as the flight began boarding. A few minutes later, she buckled herself in, fiddled with her wedding ring she had come to feel the importance of wearing, and looked at her watch as the plane pulled away from the gate: 12:35.

Meanwhile, in a second floor office of Seattle Grace Hospital, Dr. Meredith Grey, promising neurosurgeon and adoptive mother-to-be, selected out of dozens by the birth mother based in part on her maturity and calm demeanor, threw a screaming fit. If the doctors of Seattle Grace failed to notice this, it was because they were too busy gathering outside the Chief's office, watching an infuriated Miranda Bailey subject the Chief to the worst tongue lashing of his life.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Cristina deplaned at Dulles, collected her suitcase from baggage and looked for the sign where the rest of the Doctors Without Borders group had arranged to meet. She spied a distinguished looking man with dark hair and olive skin, accompanied by an attractive woman who appeared to be his wife. He caught her eye, "Dr. Hunt?"

Cristina usually corrected people, letting them know she preferred Yang-Hunt, but somehow it didn't seem that important at this moment. "Dr. Alwan, I'm so pleased to meet you. I can't thank you enough for your assistance and support."

"Think nothing of it. I owe Major Hunt a debt I can never fully repay." He turned to the woman beside him. "May I present my wife, Farrah?"

"We were so sorry to hear about your husband," Farrah said. "I do feel strongly that he will be found. And until then, I told Hakim he had a special duty to make sure Owen Hunt's wife was safe. Owen brought Hakim back to me when I thought I had lost him and was instrumental in assisting our emigration when things became too unsafe for us back home."

"Thank you." Cristina shook Farrah's hand. An inadequate gesture.

Cristina recognized the look of admiration, love and worry Farrah and her husband exchanged before departing with a "Take care now."

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Later somewhere over the Atlantic, Cristina tried out a few Pashto phrases she had attempted to learn.

"Very good," said Dr. Alwan. "I'll help you with some more helpful medical phrases. Wouldn't hurt to learn a few Dari phrases either. Of course, many of the people who come to the Ahmed Shah Baba Hospital will know enough English or French, but any respect you can show them will go a long way towards earning their trust. Most of the population has seen more than its share of suffering – it seems no matter if a cause is right or wrong, too many innocents end up paying a heavy price. Respect is the least we can offer."

"Your wife said you had to leave Iraq. Do you mind me asking do you want to go back?"

"Someday. As soon as it is safe, I plan to help rebuild my country. But right now, my presence would be dangerous to my extended family who is still in there. So Farrah works with recent émigrés, helping them adjust, and I help by trying to bring relief to others in similar situations where I can. "

Cristina sat thoughtfully.

"You look worried, Dr. Hunt."

"Call me Cristina. Please. No, I was just thinking about a silly argument Owen and I had a couple of months ago. I can't even think why I was so angry anymore. You and your wife have been through so much, you probably don't argue over unimportant things."

"Ha!" Hakim broke into a laugh. "Getting along is easy when all you have is each other and it's the two of you against the odds. When it comes to marriage, war is easy. It's sharing the remote that's hard."

Cristina closed her eyes. She dreamt of caves with firepoles, the snow covered mountains of the Hindu Kush visible from the mezzanine of Seattle Grace Hospital, and a man in Afghan dress with dark strawberry blonde hair and startlingly blue eyes.


	6. WSFB Peace Love & Understanding

**Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your encouraging comments! Additional Author's Note at the end of this chapter. **

The first three days were a whirlwind. No sooner had Cristina been introduced to the Doctors Without Borders/Medicines Sans Frontiers members and the local Afghan doctors than she was thrown into work. The population of Eastern Kabul increased daily due to an influx of villagers fleeing areas of Kapisa Province to the north and the tiny Ahmed Shah Baba hospital struggled to meet the vast array of problems presented by a diverse population. It seemed especially unfair that in a country torn for years by armed conflict, they had to deal with all the regular crap too: people still just got sick, had difficult pregnancies or heart problems or got run over in the street.

On Day Three, Cristina scrubbed in to perform a pulmonary embolectomy on an Afghani woman. She almost laughed as she realized she would have to do it without the benefit of a fluoroscope. "Thanks, Dinosaur," she thought. She tried to brush away the thoughts that accompanied her memories of the showdown with Dr. Campbell – that evening at Joe's. _"I want to be around 40 years from now," Owen had said._ "Don't cry in the patient," Cristina told herself.

So far, no concrete news of Owen. Her last communication with the Army base and the NATO hospital had resulted in a mix of hope and frustration. Yes, they had a whisper of a lead, but she shouldn't pin her hopes on it: previous leads had evaporated. They had been unable to give her any assurances that Owen was alive. "We're doing everything we can Mrs. Hunt. We assure you we want him back safely every bit as much as you do." _"Like hell," she wanted to say, "there's no possible way you could want him back as much as I do." _But she didn't. She had said, "Thank you. I know you are doing your best."

Cristina finished her surgery. It had been a long day but she had one important task before the evening was over. She had called Steve Mason as soon as she arrived to let him know she was okay, so he could relay that to everyone else. Now for the big call she had arranged. She walked over to the office laptop. 9:30 p.m. She took a big breath, logged into Skype and dialed.

"Cristina! Cristina, thank God, are you alright?" A worried Meredith's face appeared 7,000 miles away.

"I'm fine, really."

Alex's face popped into the screen behind Meredith. "Badass, Yang."

"Say hi, Sofia," chimed in Callie holding her daughter.

"Seriously, are you safe? Are you healthy? Are you holding up okay?" Meredith repeated.

"Really, I'm perfectly safe. I'm okay."

"Good." Meredith breathed a sigh of relief before saying, "Callie, can you cover Sofia's ears for a minute?" Callie complied.

"What in the goddam hell kind of fucked up stunt did you pull? I want to kick your ass. I want you to come home safe and then I want to kick your ass." Meredith practically yelled.

"Keep Sophia's ears covered Callie," the voice of Bailey said. "Yang. I don't know what kind of crazy ass plan you dreamed up, but you'd better get your fool butt back here in one piece. Oh, and I'm praying for you and Owen."

"Don't worry . . . ."

Meredith interrupted , "Don't worry? How do you freaking expect me to not worry? And _I'm _supposed to be the reckless one."

"I mean don't worry. It's not like I'm gonna ask anyone to shoot me." Cristina immediately regretted her comeback. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Look, I'm doing some good here. I'm not in danger – millions of people live in this city going about their daily lives ("2.8 million according to the 2008 census" Lexie's voice could be heard in the background) – heck, there's a _mall _here for goodness' sake. I'm also getting to do back to back solo surgeries – already the variety of problems has been a real learning experience. And I feel here I can get better information about any leads they have regarding Owen. Plus, with me around, I'm sure they'll keep the search a top priority."

"Back-to-back solos, huh? Coo . . . ." The Bailey stare stopped Alex before he could finish saying "cool."

"I know you'll take care of yourself," Callie said, lifting Sofia into view. "Remember you'll have a backlog of godmothering duties when you get back."

"I promise I'll check in regularly. And Steve Mason has people he can call if communications break down for any reason," Cristina offered. "So, Meredith , do you have the baby's room ready . . . ."

By the time she hung up half an hour later, Cristina felt a sense of relief: she had managed to reassure everyone to a reasonable degree; Meredith, Derek and Steve were making regular visits to Owen's mom; Dr. Altman, calling in from her remote honeymoon destination, had been apprised of the situation and had offered whatever additional assistance they might need getting through to military contacts.

"Can I accompany you back to the residence?" Cristina looked up to find Hakim waiting for her, unwilling to let her walk back alone.

"Thanks, Hakim. Sorry to keep you up so late, I know you have an early start tomorrow."

"Stop saying sorry. It's no problem. It's important that you were able to speak with your friends."

They walked out into the evening Kabul streets – so many things familiar to any city: concrete and smog and honking horns and delicious smells of grilled meats, groups of friends laughing together; and so many unfamiliar: burqa-clad women interspersed among the women in salwar kameez with headscarves pushed far back off their foreheads, an occasional Afghan policeman with a machine gun slung over his shoulder, a boy riding a donkey.

They walked along in silence until Hakim began, "I'm sorry there's been no news yet. These things can take time – Farrah told me the two days she didn't know where I was were the longest weeks of her life."

Cristina didn't know if she should probe further, but she didn't have to. Hakim continued, "This was about 6 years ago. I was a doctor working in Baghdad and went out to a village some distance from the city – a pediatrician friend and I went to take care of the local population who was in dire need of basic medical care. So, bad timing, we ended up getting caught up in a clash between the US military and insurgents who took refuge in the village. It was quick – over almost as soon as it began. The insurgents retreated, but a few US soldiers were dead or wounded and a few civilians, including me had been injured." Hakim paused and Cristina saw him involuntarily put his hand to his side. "Owen was among the US Army medical team that came in on a helicopter to airlift the wounded out. But there wasn't enough room on the helicopter to take everyone out in one trip. Owen insisted in staying behind with me when I refused to go until the others had been taken. The helicopter was supposed to be right back, but a dust storm kicked up and no helicopters could fly for another 36 hours." Hakim looked at Cristina. "Owen kept me alive. He removed the bullet and kept me stable and told me bad jokes. And now I'm here to do what I can to ensure you and Owen have the same bright future he allowed Farrah and me to have."

Cristina took Hakim's arm. Chief Resident races and surgery envy seemed a universe away.

****

Cristina woke with the local mosque's call to morning prayers. It was going to be another busy day at the hospital. The small lobby was already filled with patients when she arrived. Before she had time to check in with the MSF staff coordinator, a young woman rushed in carrying a young boy. "Please help," she pleaded. "My brother – he's been hit by a car." Cristina took the boy from her and started a preliminary assessment. "We were just walking by the side of the road – we're from the Kapisa Province and have only been in Kabul for a few weeks. We left to be safe. I told my parents we were just going to the bazaar and then - - you can't let him die."

Cristina, followed by his sister, carried the boy to the nearest bed. "He probably has a couple of broken ribs. From the way he's breathing, he could have a punctured lung." She looked up at his sister who started to cry. Cristina grabbed her hand. "I can take care of this. I know it's scary but I should be able to fix him. I've done this before." Cristina called one of her colleagues over. "Get him an X-ray and take him to an operating room right away. I'll be right there." Cristina took a moment to speak with the girl. "You speak English."

The girl nodded.

"What's your name?"

"Kinah. And my brother is called Babur."

"My name is Dr. Hunt. I'm probably going to have to operate on him. It may take awhile, but I will let you know how he is as soon as I can, okay?"

Cristina left Kinah with a staff member and went up to the operating room. Babur had two broken ribs and a punctured lung. Luckily, it wasn't so severe that she seriously worried about his survival. But people here died every day from things less serious than this. She hadn't fully realized the extent to which she had come to take for granted that almost anything could be fixed or cured.

After the operation, she sought out Kinah. "He's going to be fine. He needs to stay in the hospital for a few days but he's strong and you should go tell your parents he's going to recover." Unable to fully express her gratitude in words, Kinah hugged Cristina. Cristina forgot she wasn't a hugger and hugged her back.

Kinah had no sooner left to seek out her parents than Hakim called out, "Dr. Hunt, I need to speak with you a moment." Cristina walked with him to a quiet corner. "I don't want to get your hopes up, but I just got word that two American Army medics have been taken to the NATO hospital. I've been told they were rescued from a village some distance north of here where members of the Taliban were holding them."

"Let's go, now," Cristina said in a daze, pulling Hakim with her.

"They haven't been identified yet," Hakim tried to caution her. "We don't know if it's Owen. Remember there were four people unaccounted for."

Cristina didn't want to think about the possibility that it might not be Owen. It had to be him. "Please, I just need to get there. I need . . . ." She couldn't say another word. She needed to know he was alive. She needed to hear his voice. She needed the one person in the world who really saw her to see her again.

Hakim found the hospital driver and they started through the crowded streets of Kabul. Cristina's thoughts were in turmoil. And the trip seemed to take forever. A traffic jam – seriously? It would have been funny if it so weren't funny. But the endless trip finally ended and the endless security check at the NATO hospital gate began.

At long last, Cristina and Hakim were escorted to the main lobby. Cristina approached the front desk officer. "I'm Cristina Yang-Hunt. My husband, Major Hunt is one of the missing doctors. Dr. Alwan received word that two of the men missing from that incident have been taken here."

"Just a moment, Ma'am," the young man replied and disappeared around the corner. He returned an eternity later with his superior officer. "Mrs. Hunt, I'm Captain Sandoval. If you'd like to have a seat . . . " Cristina's face told him she didn't want a seat. He began again, "Lt. Uribe and Corporal Ross were brought here early this morning after being rescued during a raid on a Taliban hideout."

Cristina could feel her chest tightening again. "But my husband . . . Major Hunt."

"I'm very sorry, but Major Hunt was not found. It appears the four men were separated soon after they were taken."

"But that means he's alive?" Hakim asked.

"We can't say for sure." Captain Sandoval paused watching Cristina's face grow ashen. "Corporal Ross is in critical condition, but Lt. Uribe suffered only minor injuries. You can speak with him if you like."

Cristina nodded and allowed herself to be led down the hall.

A man in one of the beds called out in surprise, "Cristina Yang?" Cristina was startled – she was sure she had never met Lt. Uribe before.

The Lieutenant laughed, "Didn't mean to scare you. No, you are not supposed to know who I am."

"Then, how . . ."

"It's pretty hard to work with Major Hunt and not have seen picture of – let me see, what did he say exactly – oh yeah, 'the most beautiful woman in the world and an unbelievably brilliant surgeon.' How's that heart-lung trial coming anyway?"

Cristina had held herself together to this point, but this broke her. Tears began flowing uncontrollably. _"Cristina, you're crying on an injured soldier," she scolded herself._

"I'm sorry . . ." he began.

"No, no. It's okay. Please, tell me what happened. Tell me anything you know."

From what Lt. Uribe had been told about Cristina Yang, he knew she would want the whole truth. "You know about the ambush. Well, we were blindfolded and travelled for about a day, as I now know, to the north . . . . " He told Cristina that at first the Taliban had argued about what to do with them – hold them for hostage, kill them, or make use of their medical skills. "Luckily, they decided in favor of having us patch up their bastard – sorry ma'am - terrorist friends. Threatened to shoot a villager if we didn't, the fuckers – sorry ma'am. They kept us chained to the floor when our skills weren't required. Soon after that they moved Owen and our driver Asa somewhere else. I'm sorry, I don't know where. "

"So the last time you saw Owen he was alive?" Hakim asked the question Cristina couldn't bring herself to ask.

"Yeah. Yes, the last time I saw Owen Hunt, he was alive."

****

What did the man with the gun say? Was it that he would be freed in a few days or he would be killed in a few days? Hard to tell. Owen admonished himself - he should have learned the language better. Or language_s_. But maybe it was better this way, better not to know your fate. Better not to think about never seeing Cristina again. _Shit, Owen, stop it. Focus on what's in front of you._ There had to be a way to escape – he'd do whatever it took: he'd refuse to operate, figure out a way to get the gun. But they had found his weak spot. Holding a gun to his head might not work but holding a gun to Asa's and the elderly couple who's home they'd commandeered would. _I'm sorry, Cristina. I'd planned a whole lifetime – a real lifetime. _

What did the man with the gun say? I'll kill you in a few days or I'll free you in a few days?

**Author's Note: My goal is to write an entertaining story about one of my all-time favorite fictional couples. I have taken more time in writing this chapter and have tried to do a reasonable amount of research to ensure this story's plausibility; however, I am no expert on the US Military and certainly no expert on Afghanistan. I apologize for inaccuracies and factual fuzziness - if you find that any are unforgiveably egregious in spirit, I welcome constructive comments and will try to fix. My hope is that you will enjoy! **


	7. Waiting on the World to Change

Kinah and her parents arrived at the hospital as soon as the doors opened the next morning. There really was no need for her to translate her parents' tremendous relief and gratitude – Cristina knew that look – the one that Callie had when she knew her daughter wasn't going to die.

Over the next couple of days, Cristina had several opportunities to talk with Kinah, who read by her brother's bedside and, while Babur napped, studied whatever medical books were available in the hospital's small library. "I'm trying to learn everything I can – I don't know if I'll always have an opportunity to go to school, so I don't want to waste any time. Luckily, I have a very good memory – if I read something, I remember it - that's how I was able to learn so many languages so quickly."

Cristina laughed, "I work with someone like that. It can come in handy but be careful about how many statistics you fit into one conversation."

Kinah continued, "My hope is that I will get to go to Kabul University in a year or two." Little by little she told Cristina her family's story. They had a small farm about 150 miles north of Kabul. Their life after the Taliban had left the country had been mostly peaceful, but increasingly over the past few months, Taliban insurgents, funded by Al-Qaeda, had started using some nearby villages as bases for attacks on NATO forces, treating many of the locals with ruthlessness in the process.

"So, a few weeks ago, my parents decided they should take my little brother and me and to Kabul to try to avoid conflict they were sure would come soon. My mother didn't like how she was treated the last time they were under Taliban control and both of my parents want me to be educated. My two older brothers insisted on staying behind to look after our small farm. They promised they would leave and find us if things became too dangerous for them there." Living in the makeshift camps had been a hard transition for Kinah and her family - -they hoped they would be able to return in a few months and resume the modest life they had always known.

Cristina enjoyed their conversations. Kinah was a brave young woman who reminded her of herself in some ways. When Babur was well enough to leave the hospital, Cristina knew she would miss her company. "I'll come see you before I have to go back home," Cristina assured her.

**GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA**

After a few days, Cristina managed to once again visit Lt. Uribe who was back on his feet. "Major Hunt a pretty amazingly resourceful guy, Dr. Yang. His ability to think on his feet is kind of legendary in Army medical circles. My bet is that he'll find a way to get word out or escape - just wait," he tried to assure her.

She had a frank discussion with Captain Sandoval. He expressed optimism about finding Owen, but so far, the men holding Owen managed to keep one step ahead of them. They figured he'd been moved more than once. And the Army was walking a fine line: go to the wrong place, go in with guns blazing and inadvertently hurt innocent people and they undid all of the trust they had spent so many months trying to build. Added to Cristina's new hopes was a new fear. She hadn't considered that a rescue attempt could also pose a danger to the person being rescued. Corporal Ross remained in serious condition with injuries incurred as a result of gunfire exchanged during the rescue. She didn't want to think about the possibility that Owen could be alive but so many things could still go so wrong.

**GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA**

Already a week-and-half had passed. During the busy days, Cristina's mind was fully engaged, but the quiet evenings were a test of her composure. Tonight, dinner at the home of one of the local doctors would be a welcome distraction.

"This is delicious!" Cristina's enthusiasm for the kebab she was eating was genuine.

"That is lamb with a special blend of spices – a recipe handed down by my mother," their hostess responded.

"Fabulous – would you consider giving me teaching me how to make it?" For a moment Cristina considered the possibility of cooking. Why didn't meat always come on a stick?

"So tell me about your medical program," one of the local doctors asked.

Cristina began describing her residency, grateful to have memories of home to discuss. She smiled thinking of the crazy competitiveness. "A couple of months ago, I stole this patient from my friend Alex."

"You stole a patient?"

"Well, you know, it was really his patient first, but I kind of took over so I could do the surgery instead of him."

"Oh, your friend isn't a good surgeon?"

"Oh no, it's not that. He's good. Well, great actually. Everyone in my program is excellent."

The people around the room looked confused. Cristina tried to explain, "Well you see we were all in competition for Chief Resident, and having performed more difficult surgeries is one of the ways we hope to win the position."

Hakim tried to explain, "Being Chief Resident improves one's chances of finding a job."

"Actually, I don't expect to have a problem finding a job. I'm confident my hospital will offer me a position when I finish my residency." Cristina looked at the confused faces around the table. In fact, at that moment she felt confused herself. "So, tell me more about kebabs."

**GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA**

Two days left – just two days. How could she go home without Owen? And what kind of home would it be anyway? Home was where he was. She hadn't felt that same sense of home since the death of her father.

Well, she at least had to go the camp near the eastern part of the city to say goodbye to Kinah and check on Babur. Kinah had given her directions on how to find her family. "Shall we go?" Hakim asked.

Cristina thought she knew what to expect, but was nevertheless surprised at the difficult, bare-bones conditions those recent arrivals to Kabul lived in. Before she had time to dwell on the suffering she saw around her, she heard Kinah call out, "Dr. Hunt! I'm so happy you came." Kinah approached Cristina and Hakim, followed by a tall young man of about 20. "This is my brother Rashid. He just arrived last night to tell us how things are at home and to see how we are. Rashid, Dr. Hunt is the one that saved our brother." Kinah translated the introductions and Rashid's profound thanks.

"Rashid, it's very sad. Dr. Hunt's husband is an Army doctor who we think is being held by the Taliban." As Kinah translated back and forth, Rashid studied Cristina's face. He asked his sister a question. "Rashid wants to know how long ago this happened." Cristina explained what she knew.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why but Rashid has something to say but asks for your promise not to repeat it to anyone else. Yours too, Dr. Alwan."

Cristina and Hakim nodded with some bewilderment.

Rashid proceeded with Kinah translating, "About a week ago, a few Taliban took over a house at the edge of our village. They have a foreigner with them and Rashid has seen injured Taliban going in and people with bandages coming out. Another person in the village saw the Taliban point a gun at the foreigner and another Afghan man, so they figured they must be prisoners."

Cristina's grip on Hakim's arm tightened with every sentence.

"But he doesn't think this can be your husband, Dr. Hunt."

"Ask him why not."

Kinah translated back to Cristina. "He thinks the foreigner cannot be your husband – he's a different race. He has very pale skin. And red hair."

Cristina wasn't the kind of woman who fainted. But she came close.

"Kinah, I have to tell the Army so they can rescue my husband."

Rashid became agitated as Kinah translated. "Rashid asks you to keep your word. You must understand, we don't hold a grudge against the US, but we know of too many innocent people who have been killed because they have been caught in the crossfire or because the military has made a mistake. We still have relatives in the village. Dr. Hunt, please. Rashid is returning to our village and he says he will see if there is anything he can do – he is very grateful to you for saving our brother - but he won't tell you the name of our village. I'm very sorry, Dr. Hunt, but I won't, either."

Cristina stood there a moment in disbelief. They hadn't discussed the name of Kinah's village. Part of her understood their concerns – she had worried over those very problems with Captain Sandoval.

The words were out of her mouth before she fully realized what she was saying, "Take me there then."

"Cristina!" Hakim exclaimed. "It's too dangerous. We'll inform the Army and . . . "

"And what, have them go village to village, guessing which one might be the right one? That's what they're doing now. And if they find him? You saw what happened to Corporal Ross. Even then there's no guarantee Owen will come out of it alive."

"But you could be killed yourself . . .," Hakim tried to speak reason.

"Do you know that last year I operated on a friend while a gunman threatened to shoot me if I didn't stop? In a major hospital in a very safe city. My own home. The year before that, a good friend was run over and killed by a bus. I could be killed anywhere. I'll just go as far as is reasonably safe –Rashid says his older brother is still there and they haven't been bothered at their home. I'm more use close to where Owen is than sitting here and wringing my hands. I've come this far."

As many men before him had, Hakim saw unshakeable determination before him. He wasn't a swearing man, but he felt like swearing. "Then we'd better get started."

"You don't have to . . ." Cristina began but saw an equal determination in his eyes.

Kinah and Rashid began arguing. Hakim's limited ability with the language wasn't a match for the unfamiliar dialect and shorthand used by a brother and sister. After a few minutes Kinah turned back to Cristina triumphantly. "Rashid says my name suits me. It means 'strong-willed.' Anyway, I've convinced him that you need me along as your translator. My parents won't be happy, but as long as I am with my brothers they know they will keep me safe."

Hakim turned to Rashid. "I think you and I need to make a trip to the bazaar and pick up some items for the journey."


	8. White Horse

Cristina looked at the two remaining items on the bed. She had already packed food, water, a few medical supplies with the program label removed and other bare necessities in her small backpack and had hidden as much cash as she could manage to round up and her passport in various small pouches to wear close to her body. She had arranged to store the rest of her luggage with a local hospital worker. Luckily, their time with Doctors Without Borders was up and new doctors were arriving tomorrow, so she wasn't leaving them in the lurch. She didn't want to have to explain to the program what she was doing – they certainly would not approve; they had a strict mission to provide medical care, completely neutral and completely independently so that those they were trying to help would not suffer retaliation.

When Hakim had returned from the bazaar with supplies, she began to feel the impact of the danger she might face. _"If you are going to do this, you may have to defend yourself at some point. You need to be prepared," Hakim said as he handed her the gun. "If you have any doubts, you should change your mind now – it would be the wise decision." Cristina hated guns but she shook her head. "And where we are going, it will be much safer for you if you wear this_." _Kinah's arms were filled with a bundle of sky blue material – a burqa. "Dr. Hunt, even if we avoid contact with the Taliban, you will be too conspicuous – this is the best way."_

Cristina took a deep breath and hung the gun on a strap across her body. She gathered the blue material and slipped it over her head.

"_You should ditch this place . . . "_

One arm through the billowing sleeve.

"_Go for the adventure."_

Her other arm . . .

"_You're saying this place gives you a rush?"_

The length of the robes fell to her feet.

"_A high?"_

Cristina Yang of Beverly Hills turned and, through a light blue veil, gazed at the strange sight in the mirror.

**GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA**

Rashid drove the rickety car they managed to purchase up the dusty road. The few people they encountered were all going in the opposite direction.

**GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA**

Owen considered his options, turned them over and over in his mind. He knew the owners of the house had no love for the Taliban. He had to stop himself from laughing at the face he saw the old man make behind the back of the men who had taken over his home. But at the same time, there was little they or the other villagers who remained could do without inviting retaliation. He couldn't blame them for hoping that the few Taliban there would just go away of their own accord. If there was only some way he could create a distraction – but then he and Asa were guarded during the day and chained at night. Maybe he could get word to someone who would sympathize and give them something to cut their chains with so they could at least make a run for it.

At last he seemed to finally get a break. Something must have happened somewhere else the night before because most of the men guarding them hurried off amid raised voices and a sense of urgency. Only two guards left – but then two guns against none were still formidable odds. He needed to think of something soon. This place was starting to get to him – the last couple of nights he had such vivid dreams – visions of Cristina, a blue veil, the voice of Dan trying to tell him something.

The next morning, Owen saw a young man from the village approaching the house with a basket of produce. With only two guards left, he supposed they had sent a message for food to be brought to them rather than leave only one guard with him and Asa. _"Maybe I can convince this man to deliver a message to someone outside," he thought. _But maybe he didn't have to: the young man seemed to stare at him; it was almost as if he was looking for an opportunity to speak with him. The two Taliban guards secured Owen's chains before going to the next room and checking the food the young man had brought and giving instructions to the homeowners to prepare a meal.

As he passed by Owen, the young man from the village spoke in a whisper of broken English, "My sister has brought a visiting doctor home. This doctor would like to know," he paused then proceeded carefully, as if he had rehearsed the next statement, "What was your best surgery ever?"

Owen managed to overcome the rush of emotion that filled him in time to give a nod of recognition and a quiet quick word to the young man who departed before the guards could suspect anything. Impossible that Cristina was here; yet on the deepest level, somehow he wasn't surprised. He would have gone to the ends of the earth for her if she were missing. His beautiful, wonderful, stubborn, brilliant wife. Why should he expect she would do anything less?

**GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA**

Rashid and Kinah's eldest brother returned home with a sense of urgency. "The red-haired doctor said he is sorry he is late, Dr. Hunt." Cristina found it hard to contain her jubilation. She wanted to run and shout and jump up and down. "It's him."

He then turned to Hakim. "I managed to have a quick word with our elderly neighbor. He says most of the Taliban left in a hurry yesterday, but he thinks they may be back soon. There are only two men guarding Dr. Hunt and the Afghan man with him right now. If we are going to do something, we should do it tonight."

Two hours later, they had their plan. Now, just to wait for nightfall.

**GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA**

Owen pretended to sleep. He was sure the Taliban would hear his heart beating, could sense his adrenaline, could hear him praying for Cristina's safety.

Soon enough, the second guard fell asleep.

**GAGAGAGAGAGAGGAGAGAGAGA**

Rashid came back from his check on the Taliban hideout. He looked at Hakim, Cristina and his brother with an unmistakable seriousness of purpose. "It's time."

Cristina ran over the next quarter of a mile with Hakim and Kinah's brothers as if in a dream. Somebody with a bravery she didn't recognize was ready to fight for the life she wanted more than she had ever wanted anything else. And then they were there.

**GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA**

He could have imagined it. But Owen felt a change in the air. The same electricity that filled every room each time she was near. He peered at the guard through half-closed eyes and made a decision.

**GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA**

The guard rushed to the other room as he heard the American doctor groan in his sleep and pull on his chain. The next thing he knew, a large needle was being shoved into the artery in his neck and everything went black.

**GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGGAGAGAGAGA**

Cristina rushed to the corner and drawing on seven years of training in one of the best hospitals in the country, she aimed her needle at the sleeping Taliban and delivered an elephant-sized anesthetic.

Rashid and his brother took less than a minute to drag the knocked-out Taliban and load them onto a donkey. Rashid's brother would dump them miles from the village – when they awoke, even if they were able to shake off the drugs and humiliation, by the time they could return to the village, everyone would be long gone.

"Cristina!" The sight of his wife in a long blue robe was startling.

Cristina offered an explanation "Local camouflage – just in case," she grinned.

" I told you you'd be great in the field."

"Okay, well, either you can flirt or you can take this gun and shoot off the chain lock – hope you don't expect me to _saw _through the links."

Owen didn't need any more prompting and, smiling, shot through his chain as Hakim freed Asa.

The former captives, their rescuers and the elderly homeowners were met by a joyful Kinah at the farm.

"Owen," said Hakim, "I think we're even." Owen nodded and shook his friend's hand. Hakim continued, "Kinah, Rashid is going to take the car tonight on the road back to Kabul with them (he signaled the elderly homeowners), you, Asa and the two other villagers still here. We can't take any chances of Taliban returning and retaliating against you. I'm sorry but there's no other way."

Cristina looked at Owen and turned to Kinah, "My husband and I will repay you and your family one day. You've given me my life back . . . ." Owen took Cristina's hand, "When my wife says something, she means it. And so do I."

"There is an outbuilding we use for the animals a distance from the farmhouse. I think you will be safe there for the night. May God be with you," Kinah did her best to keep her emotions in check before heading off to the car.

Half an hour later a tiny car driven by Rashid and filled to overcapacity started down the long dusty road to Kabul.

Hakim turned to Owen and Cristina. "I'll wait for Rashid's brother at the farmhouse. He'll be back early. You two should go to the outbuilding Kinah told you about. We'll make our way to the nearest bazaar then – I understand there are some Army patrols there. " Owen started to protest but he knew Hakim was right. Chances are they were safe for the night, but a remote location would be safer for Cristina.

"I'll meet you before dawn," Owen pledged to his friend. "We

Owen and Cristina found the small building at the edge of the small stand of trees Kinah had described. And then, for the first time in two months, they were alone together. Owen found himself unable to speak – sometimes words failed. He brushed her hair lightly with his hand.

Cristina took his hand and kissed it. That same look was in his eyes – the same one when he first kissed her, and when he told her he wanted to be around in 40 years, when he had asked her to meet him halfway. And when she had married him. Some people didn't understand – she knew exactly what she was doing when she married him. The world was a crazy place but he made sense. They made sense. She was the best version of herself when she was with him. Everything about him made her feel brilliant, beautiful, funny, sexy and compassionate.

Owen looked at his wife. That same look was in her eyes – when she had kissed him for the first time and when she had comforted him on that horrible first date, when she hit her first baseball and told him yes and when she had married him. He was the best version of himself when he was with her. Kind and funny, brave, masculine, sexy and brilliant.

They looked up - it seemed more summer stars shone above the small Afghan village than over the perpetually clouded Seattle. There was a lot made of make-up sex. Silly – nothing could be more passionate, more meaningful, more loving, more exciting than the reunion of two soulmates who thought they had lost each other but found they had another chance.

**GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA**

Waking, it took a full minute before Cristina realized she wasn't back in a Seattle Grace on call room, but instead in a small building on the other side of the world. Owen had already risen and she went to find him as the first fingers of light filtered over the nearby ridge.

Three men approached Cristina: Rashid's brother; Hakim, leading a horse; and Owen – leading a white horse for them to ride away on.

Cristina laughed out loud for the first time in ages: "Seriously?"


	9. Epilogue: All About Our Love

"Mom, that's like the fifth kebab you've eaten today."

"Hey, I'm appreciating the local culture. And it's not like I'm in danger of getting fat, Lulu Meredith, so watch yourself."

Lulu's twin snickered. "Shut up, Dan," Lulu said as she stuck her tongue out.

"No, there's definitely no danger of that." Owen Hunt, a little bit of grey starting at his temples, but eyes bluer than ever, admired his wife's ever youthful figure.

"Thanks, Hon." Cristina took a break from her kebab long enough to give her very wise and devastatingly sexy husband a kiss.

The Yang-Hunt family made its way through the streets of Kabul, with its rapidly changing skyline and construction projects on seemingly every corner.

"Did you have a good time at Hakim and Farrah's?" Owen asked his twins.

"Yeah!" the teens replied in unison.

"So was Baghdad that pretty when you were there, Dad?" Dan asked.

"No. No, it wasn't. But it's a very ancient city and all of us back then hoped one day it would be what it once was." Owen sounded a little wistful and Cristina took his hand.

"Mom, this was the first place you did your Doctors Without Borders stuff, right?" Lulu knew the answer but she never tired of hearing about her parents' work with the group throughout the years.

"That's right."

"And that's why you wanted us to see it? And to visit your professor friend, Kinah, at the university?"

"Yep," Cristina responded. "She just got promoted to head of the language department."

"And this is an important country for you kids, too," Owen told them as he gave Cristina his classic grin.

"Why?"

Cristina turned to her twins with a wink, "Well, when I was here about 16 years ago, your dad was here working, too. And, well, let's just say nine months later you two were born."

"Geez, Mom. Too much information!"

Owen and Cristina looked at each other and laughed. If there was one thing they enjoyed it was freaking out their children. "And when I got back, your Aunt Meredith and Uncle Derek and just brought your cousin Zola home."

"And the week after she found out she was pregnant with Adele, George and Ellie!" Lulu and Dan laughed hysterically. They laughed hysterically every time the story was told, just as everyone Meredith knew laughed about it – at every hospital function, at every family gathering, at every Thanksgiving and Christmas and Fourth of July.

"Yes," Cristina said. "And that's when your Aunt Meredith knew that all of them would be okay. When she was presented with the reality that this would make her life impossibly difficult, she stopped worrying 'cause she knew it was meant to be."

Owen looked down at his video wrist communicator, which was flashing red. "Sorry, but I gave the hospital this number in case of emergency." Owen answered the call with a slightly worried expression.

"_Doctor Hunt?" _The accented voice on the other end was unfamiliar as was the face in the flickering hologram before him. "_Is Doctor Yang with you?"_

"Yes," Owen replied as he signaled Cristina over.

"_Dr. Yang, Dr. Hunt. I am from the Nobel Committee. I am very pleased to inform you that you have jointly been awarded the Nobel Prize in Medicine for your development of the system for onsite traumatic heart-lung injury repair and the insights gained into heart function as a result. The committee members have determined that the lives of countless numbers of the victims of accidents and wars have been saved and will be saved due to your discovery and innovation." _

Owen and Cristina ended the call and smiled at each other. "Congratulations, Dr. Yang." "Congratulations, Dr. Hunt." When they finished jumping up and down (to the embarrassment, once again, of their kids), Cristina looked up into the blue Kabul sky, "This is for you, Dad."

**Author's Note: Thank you all for your wonderful, encouraging comments. It means a lot. I hope I didn't rush the ending too much or stretch the bounds of believability beyond the breaking point. My dream is that one day the show will recognize all of the exciting potential of this couple, both in and beyond the hospital setting. I'll be looking forward to reading many more of others' beautiful Cristina/Owen fanfics. **


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